The standard for New Yorker “Shouts & Murmurs” pieces by famous writers, or writers who have graced those glossy pages before, should be this: If an unknown sent in the same piece, would it pass the threshhold?
Most of the time, the answer is a big fat “No.” An unfunny piece by a New Yorker writer or famous author is going to get into print well before a funnier piece by an unknown. At least, today’s evidence implies that this is the case.
George Saunders, who “has written six books” according to his bio on page 2, and who has been published in Shouts & Murmurs before, poops out a really dull “Shouts” piece this week.
It starts by quoting a recent internet article about how so many young people don’t meet the minimum standards of basic military training because they are out of shape.
Then Saunders launches into a satirical two-page summary of a military expedition in which the soliders are out of breath, panting, dealing with back spasms, their pants are falling down, sweating, thirsty, reaching for sodapop and snacks as they march foward.
Ha ha.
Toward the end:
We were not afraid. We were not cowards. Well, maybe a little. But mostly we were just so tired. Also starving. Plus, like I said, several of us were chafing.
That’s basically what the whole piece is, and that’s as good as it gets. Well, there is an almost funny joke about them fighting over Raisinets left over from a Halloween care package.
Know what it’s like? ONE OF THOSE SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE SKITS WHERE THE VERY PREMISE ITSELF IS THE JOKE, AND THE SKIT JUST GOES ON AND ON AND NEVER GETS A LAUGH.
So let’s see. If anyone other than George Saunders had written this, would it have been published?
No.
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